Planet B
by Hawki
Summary: Infinite Warfare Oneshot: "There is no Planet B." That had been an Earthen slogan in the early 21st century. Of course, space colonization sorted that out. Problem was, Mars would be "Planet B" for Earth. Regardless of the consequences.


**Planet B**

The _Espa _wasn't the _Olympus Mons_, but it didn't have to be. All it had to do was serve as the dozens of ships he'd launch at Earth upon the commencement of RIAH. Even numbers could be subdued through superior firepower. As for whether Captain Beckfort was going to turn up on time however? That was another matter. One that, as Admiral Salen Kotch looked at his chrono, was a matter that he was becoming less and less inclined to indulge in.

The captain's quarters were nice, he'd give her that much. As he sat at her desk, he looked around. Plaques and trophies, along with roles of commendation. Enough to give the room a sense of character, not so much that it overwhelmed the character that all Martians were expected to have – self-sufficiency. Toughness. Devotion. The achievements of Captain Beckfort could never come before those of the Settlement Defence Front, and in that, she'd toed the line. The water-colour painting of Phobos (or was it Deimos? The artist had made it hard to tell) was perhaps a bit too much, especially considering how hard it was to get wood on Mars, but he'd let that slide. For now.

What he was less inclined to let slide was that she was still five, no, _six _minutes late. Scowling, he activated his wrist unit and a hologram appeared of a recording taken from September 23, 2019. Well over 160 years ago, but one that he'd taken to watching now and again. It was from a time when the colonization of Mars had been a dream. One that had turned from dream to necessity, and one that had turned from dream to nightmare as the powers of Earth did what they always had. Martian independence had begun with the Secession Wars, but as Salen had realized from the moment he could understand language at all, the road to independence hadn't been fully walked. Few weeks from now though, they'd reach the road's end.

"Sorry I'm late admiral."

He deactivated the holo, silently kicking himself. He was an admiral for God's sake, not some scared child who'd been caned for watching Earthen movies. He could watch whatever he damn well pleased.

"Seven minutes," he murmured.

That didn't mean he didn't have to worry about keeping his position.

"I'm sorry?"

"Seven minutes," Salen said. "Or eight. I can choose to ignore that you're seven minutes late for a meeting that you requested, and decide to make it eight minutes."

Beckfort, already frazzled, was allowing the fear to shine out of her eyes.

"Or two," Salen said. "Shall I make it two? Because that's how long someone can last when being spaced before blacking out."

Beckfort took a breath. "Apologies again, admiral."

Salen grunted. He'd seen a spacing of an Earthen spy nine days ago. He didn't know how long the bitch had lasted, but chances were that she'd passed out long before he lost sight of her spinning body.

"Anyway," Salen said. "I'm here. You wanted to discuss logistics, so discuss." He spread his arms out around the table. Beckfort approached, and after a moment's hesitation, put her data pad down. This was her office, but Salen had her seat. And he had no intention of giving it up. The Martian throne, such as it was, was his. Soon the solar system would be his. And if he needed to add Beckfort's head to the pile of skulls that would support it, then so be it.

Beckfort activated the pad and what followed was five minutes of logistics. Missiles for the _Espa_. Troop numbers. Its fighter complement. It didn't take long for Salen to realize that this was a matter that was beneath him – a matter that she could have taken up with someone far further down the chain of command. It took him an even shorter amount of time to interrupt Beckfort and say, "stop."

"Sir?"

"Stop," he repeated. He leant back in the chair. "I know what you're doing."

"Sir, I don't follow."

"Beckfort, you may be late, but you're not stupid. I don't put stupid people in command of my ships. So, in light of everything, that leaves me with two options." He leant back in his chair, rubbing his thumb against his finger as his right hand formed a fist. "The first is that you don't know that any concerns about the complement of the _Espa _should be forwarded on to people who actually work on that stuff for a meaning. If that's the case, then you are stupid, and I've made a terrible mistake in making you captain."

Beckfort cleared her throat. "Sir, I-"

"The other option is that this is prelude for something else. That you wanted me here for some reason, and have engaged in this inane banter to lead up to it. Perhaps you want to kill me. Perhaps you want to discuss things with me. Perhaps, however unlikely, you're secretly in love with me. But whatever the case, you can consider it an order that you get on with it."

Beckfort, after a moment's hesitation, deactivated the data pad. Salen, still leaning back in the chair, gave her a small nod. It was clear that at the very least, she wasn't stupid. Maybe she wanted him dead, maybe she wanted something else, but at the very least, he could take solace in knowing that he hadn't put an imbecile in command of one of his ships.

A person who'd brought him onto her ship under false pretences, granted, but still…

"This is a mistake," Beckfort said.

Salen didn't move. "What's a mistake?" he asked.

"RIAH. Earth. The invasion. All of it. It's a mistake."

Salen couldn't help but smirk. "You bring me onto your ship to tell me what dozens of captains have already suggested?"

"You're taking Mars into open war with Earth. You're doing so under the premise that we can shut down their defence grid, then bring our ships in before they can react. Then your current plan relies on us deploying ground forces on a planet whose people number over ten billion. Then-"

Salen held up a hand. "Enough," he said. He leant forward. "You've already got some of it wrong Beckfort. The plan involves turning Earth's defence grid against its own fleet. A fleet that will be performing a parade to remind the drooling masses that there's ships protecting them, even if their commanders are incompetent. Plus, the method of coordinating our fleet into Earth's first Lagranian point has been tested in over fifty simulations."

Beckfort frowned, as did Salen. Had those details escaped her? Or had she intentionally omitted them to present her argument? He found the latter slightly more palatable. But only _slightly_.

"Anything else you want to say Beckfort?"

She sighed. "Even if we did this," she said slowly, "you're talking about launching a ground assault on a planet of ten billion. At most, the SDF could field a few million."

"I'm aware of the population disparities between Earth and Mars," Salen said.

"That our own soldiers would be fighting on a planet with gravity nearly three times that of what they're used to."

"SDF soldiers train in one g. Our ships are set to one g."

"That-"

"Beckfort, I'm not sure if you're overthinking or underthinking this. If you set a wolf among lambs, the lambs are dead either way, no matter how many there are. The lambs can flee, the lambs might get their mother to protect them, but they still can't do anything about the wolf. So once we're in the Earthen's paddocks, we only have to kill enough of the lambs to the point where our own people can move in. Make Earth serve Mars, not the other way round."

What little colour there was in Beckfort's face.

"There'll be some lambs remaining," Salen added. "Earthen, Martian…these are cultural descriptors. One can become the other."

Beckfort still didn't say anything, and Salen frowned. Maybe reassigning her wasn't such a bad idea. The bulk of the SDF fleet would be launched against Earth, but RIAH would involve a simultaneous assault against all UNSA colonies. He could send her off to die there, or heck, have her stay on Mars. The red planet still needed its own defences after all. But still, competency wasn't Beckfort's issue, at least according to her file. Instead, it was clear that it was her conviction.

"Here," said Salen. "I want to show you something."

He activated his wrist unit, showing the hologram of the feed he'd been watching. Beckfort stared, but he could tell that he didn't need to explain what she was seeing – a protest. One on Earth conducted over half a century ago. What might need explaining was the context. All Martians were expected to know their own history before they knew that of Mars.

"This was in New York," he said. "Used to be where the United Nations was headquartered. Before it turned into the UNSA, and moved house to Geneva." He pointed at one of the signs that an Earthen was carrying. "Tell me – what does that say?"

Beckfort squinted. "There is no Planet B," she said.

Salen smirked. However, it faded as he looked up at Beckfort and could tell that she didn't understand.

"This is from 2019," he said. "Back when the Earthen were waking up to how much they'd maimed their world. This was at the start of a climate summit held by the United Nations. A last chance to change course and save their planet. Tell me Beckfort – what happened?"

She shrugged. "They spread out into space?"

"Eventually," Salen said. "First the moon in the 2020s. Then Mars in the 2050s, which they promptly lost a century later." He froze the image and pointed at the Planet B sign, specifically the rendition of Earth. "Every planet has boundaries," he said. "Earth most of all. The Earthen couldn't live within them. They'd known that for over a century by this point, and they still did nothing. If you study the history of Earth, of mankind, it's a story of empires rising and falling over the last twelve-thousand years, surviving by the strong being sustained by the weak, not realizing that that dependence is what makes them weak in the first place. The result is that empires still exist. Earth's the hub of an empire. The only reason Earth has kept going is that Mars became their so-called Planet B, and they exploited it like their own planet. Same way they've exploited their moon, same way they've exploited the asteroid belt, same way they've exploited even Mercury. Because that's what the Earthen do. It's why if we don't do something now, they'll regain control of Mars." He deactivated the holo and looked at Beckfort. "If it makes you feel better captain, think of this as a fight not for Mars, but for humanity. For the future of the Sol system. Because we know what it's like to live in a world with few resources. We know what it takes to take only what is needed. And I know, as do my best captains, that Earth is the problem. It's always been the problem. It's why, when the dust settles, that Gaia, if she exists, will thank us. Why when Mars is terraformed, we won't make the same mistakes as our ancestors."

"And at what cost?" Beckfort murmured.

Salen stared at her, but only for a moment. A moment after that, he activated a holographic keyboard and began typing on it. And a few moments after that, he murmured, "I'm reassigning you."

"Sir?"

"Utopia Planitia. I'm reassigning you to the academy there."

"Sir, I-"

"No, Captain," Salen said. "There's no discussion here. I need soldiers who aren't afraid to die. Who aren't afraid to kill. Death is no disgrace, be it Martian or Earthen. Since you're apparently afraid of both, I'm sending you back to the academy. Long as you teach the next generation how to fight and not to weep, I'm happy. But when we take the Earth, you'll only be hearing about it through state broadcasts."

Beckfort just stood there, rooted to the spot. She didn't understand, Salen reflected. Still, so many Martians didn't understand. They believed that the Earthen would change. They believed that the Sol system was infinite, just as humanity had believed the resources of their homeworld were infinite over the centuries. They didn't understand that if Mars didn't make a stand now, all would be lost. The Earthen were fighting with one hand behind their back. If they actually committed themselves to war, sheer numbers would overwhelm Mars in a matter of weeks.

"You're dismissed Captain."

And he had to plan how best to avoid that. It was why he'd be taking a trip to Titan soon. Because RIAH was on the verge of activation. The first battle, that would determine the losing side of the last battle.

"Salen?"

He looked at Beckfort, not bothering to tell her that the term was "admiral."

"I want you to remember this moment," she whispered. "When the knife's at your throat, when you drag us all into the fire, when you're reaping the whirlwind, I want you to remember it. And reflect that your name will be cursed forevermore."

Salen, after a moment of shock, whispered, "I'll accept the judgement of history," he whispered. "Which is more than you will be. History will never remember you, Captain Beckfort."

She said nothing. She just gave him a small salute and exited her office. Her _former _office.

Leaving the admiral alone.

* * *

_A/N_

_Y'know, I actually wrote this before the UN Climate Summit in September. In-between writing the oneshot and this author's note, the summit's since passed, and it's a failure. _

_Still, I've often wondered if the idea of "there is no Planet B" would be a slogan if there was a Planet B. Like, if we could leave for the moon, today, and live there as easily on Earth, would there be the same attention paid to planetary breakdown? Probably not, admittedly._


End file.
